Ray Ozzie Wants to Push Microsoft Back Into Startup Mode

The keynote speaker at this past summer's TechReady conference—a gathering of 6,000 or so Microsoft engineers from around the world—was the company's chief software architect, Ray Ozzie. This was not a routine appearance. Ozzie arrived at Microsoft in 2005, and the following year he inherited the title of CSA directly from Bill Gates. He was now the microprocessor of the Microsoft machine. But he had never addressed the semiannual conclave. His explanation? He wanted to wait until he had something big to show the troops.

But there's something else: Ozzie hates speaking in public. His idea of paradise is pitching his vision around a table near a whiteboard, where he can proceed conversationally and draw on his marketplace savvy, quiet confidence, and ability to scrawl out XML code on the fly. Auditoriums are something else. "I have high anxiety—massive, huge, tremendous anxiety," he says. "It's not a natural act for me." The infrequency of his public appearances has triggered murmurs that the guy in Gates' chair is afraid to face his public, like some sort of software Greta Garbo. "Where's Ray?" Microsoft observers have been asking, as Google grabs more headlines and Apple relentlessly mocks the company's shortcomings. Two-plus years into the job, there is still a bit of mystery to Ray Ozzie.

It is about time that one of the most significant figures in the personal computer age, the writer of Symphony and creator of Lotus Notes, emerges from the shadows. Time to reveal what he has been working on. And, most important, time to explain how the world's mightiest software company is going to remain relevant.

Not an easy job. Yes, Microsoft still rakes in the dollars from Windows and Office. But the stock has been flat for years. Microsoft used to be regarded with fear and respect—Lord Voldemort with market share. Now people downgrade their computers to avoid Vista, tech luminaries write blog posts with titles like "Microsoft Is Dead," and the public face of the company is the hapless loser in the Apple ads. Oh, and this year, after a 25-month transition, Gates, the once-omnipresent cofounder, left the building.

To get a sense of the gloom, check out the speakers who precede Ozzie at TechReady. First comes an executive who presents a preview of Microsoft's upcoming ad campaign—a protests-too-much response to those PC-versus-Mac ads from "that fruit company down the road." Then he describes the remedial work Microsoft is doing to get computermakers to tweak their products so a Vista bootup takes less time than a round of golf. The next guy reveals the not-so-encouraging information that he has taken a hard line on his children's pleas for iPods. They'll go without, he promises, as long as "my rent is paid by Microsoft." He doesn't mention where his kids go when they want to search the Internet. The odds, of course, are that they use Google, the rival that's even deeper inside the heads of Microsoft executives than Steve Jobs is.

The tone changes when Ozzie appears onstage.

If his insides are churning, his delivery doesn't show it. His demeanor is smooth, direct, gimmick-free. At 53, Ozzie is trim and fashionable—eschewing the Redmond standard-issue chinos and polo shirts for a dark suit, gray shirt, and no tie. His hair is burnished silver, as it has been for years. (Take away the stage fright and he could be the lead detective in a Law & Order spinoff.) Before Ozzie gets to the software demos that he hopes will revivify Microsoft, he addresses the lingering "Who is this guy?" question.

"You and I don't have much time together at events like these," he says, "and yet, given how much we need each other, it's probably good for you to get a sense of how I'll lead in my role as CSA. Unlike with Bill, you haven't had 30 years to get to know what makes me tick." To remedy that, he offers some quick bites about his passions—in a style suggested, he says, by the 140-character format in Twitter. (The fact that he references Twitter and not a Microsoft product is a statement in itself.)

I love software, because if you can imagine something, you can build it.

I love Windows, because without it there would be no PC. There would be no PC developers. There might not even be a Web.

I love the ubiquitous Web because of the connections that it opened up.

I love competition. But when we're behind a competitor, I hate it when we find ourselves just chasing their taillights.